


watch the roses of the day grow deep

by blackkat



Series: the last immortal leaf is dead and gold [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Developing Relationship, Dimension Travel, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Tobirama thinks of Madara in the moment after that lightning construct’s attack, burning with power but none of the madness that Tobirama remembers. The way Madara pressed him up against the shelf, eyes wild with something like fear, the desperate sound he made when Tobirama jumped from the top of the shelf and Madara thought he was falling.Weighs the softness that touched the slant of Madara's mouth when Tobirama said his name against the memory of a harsh, cold man who had only hatred to spare, and…wonders. Just a little. Just enough.





	watch the roses of the day grow deep

Familiar voices pull Tobirama out of a book on the history of this strange, sideways world, and he looks up automatically, entirely, automatically prepared for six bodies to come flying over the top of the shelf to grab him. He’s even braced for it, has already decided that he won't let any of them catch him today—it’s good for their egos, when they fail, and Tobirama likes to keep them on their toes.

But though the voices grow louder, none of the small group appears. They pass right beneath Tobirama’s perch instead, talking freely, and Tobirama is abruptly jarred back into the reality of this world instead of his own, reminded that for all that the mages here fight there's far less strife than in a world populated by shinobi. Here, one doesn’t need to be forever alert, ready for a knife in the shadows.

Well. _Most_ people don’t. Tobirama’s walked into some of the worst assassination attempts he’s ever encountered over the past few weeks, so poor that if he had the option he’d demote the culprit back down to a student and make them go through the Academy again. It’s truly pathetic.

Disgusted just by the thought, he closes his book with a mental note as to his page, then sets it aside and rises to his feet, trailing after the rambunctious group as they make their way deeper into the library. The shelves give Tobirama a perfect vantage point, and he has to scoff at the fact that there were absolutely no footprints in the dust up here the first time he scaled the shelves to check. No one else seems to have realized that there may as well be a road up here, out of sight of the rest of the library and perfectly private.

Madara knows, now, but—

Tobirama isn’t quite sure what to think about Madara knowing. It’s something he’s filed away for later contemplation, at least.

With a self-directed huff, he follows the voices, currently the library’s only occupants, towards one of the tall windows at the far end. From this height it’s easy to make out four dark heads, and he can't resist a small smile at the sight of them, Hiruzen with one hand hooked around Danzō’s elbow, tugging him along, and Koharu in the lead, a stack of books tucked under one arm. Danzō seems to be protesting the manhandling, if halfheartedly, and Kagami is laughing at him, bringing up the rear.

It’s so different than the last time Tobirama saw them, tense and battle-weary and on the edge of despair. Tired of the war that started under his watch, and in those circumstances of course Tobirama was never going to let any of them put themselves in danger. Koharu had wanted to stand and fight as a team, Hiruzen had wanted to distract the Kinkaku Squad, Kagami had wanted to run, but—

Tobirama was tired of war, and he made the best choice. Removing those who kept the attitudes of the Clan Wars was the best way to give peace a foothold, and Tobirama was one of the old guard. He paved the way for the future, but he also stood in its path.

He wonders, now, how Hiruzen is doing. If the burdens of Hokage are too much for him. If Danzō is still feeling guilty for not speaking up first. If Homura has managed to recover from his nightmares, and Torifu from his wounds. If Koharu has forgiven him for dismissing her idea, even when he’s preached teamwork from the very first.

Tobirama hopes so. He’ll never regret dying so that they can live, but he does hope that he didn’t go to meet his end carrying their resentment.

Taking a breath, he shakes off the dark thoughts, sets them aside and very firmly decides not to dwell on them. There's no way back to that Konoha that he can find, so for all intents and purposes, this is his world now.

“—where Tobirama is?” Hiruzen is asking loudly, even as he comes to a stop in the middle of one of the study areas. He’s frowning deeply, and his expression has a worried cast to it. “Usually he’s come to yell at us by now.”

“Yell at _you_ , you mean,” Koharu retorts, stepping around him to lay her books out on the table. “He probably has a headache from all the noise you make.”

“I make the _perfect_ amount of noise,” Hiruzen retorts, dragging Danzō down with him to sit on the wide window seat.

“For what, a dying monkey?” Kagami asks, laughing, but he settles into the chair next to Koharu and stretches his legs out, propping his feet on an empty chair. He tugs one of the books closer, squinting at the title for a moment, and then groans. “Koharu! Do we really have to work on _runics_? They're _torture_.”

Koharu rolls her eyes. “Just because you spend most of Lady Tōka’s class daydreaming about a certain person’s ass doesn’t mean we all do,” she says blandly, stealing the book back. “Did you want help with the homework or not?”

Kagami splutters. “I do _not_!” he protests, even as Danzō chuckles. He rises to his feet, tugging Hiruzen with him, and pulls him over to the table.

“Runics aren’t torture,” he agrees. “They're interesting.”

“Teacher’s pet,” Kagami mutters, and waves a hand at Hiruzen. “Get over here. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer with me.”

“Runics aren’t _that_ bad,” Hiruzen tells him, but he knocks Kagami's feet off the chair between him and Danzō and takes a seat, promptly tilting his body until he’s leaning on Danzō again. Danzō doesn’t protest the way Tobirama expects him to, but leans into it a little in return, and Tobirama can feel one brow creeping up. He’d been aware of Hiruzen's attraction, back in his world, but Danzō was always too caught up in thinking them rivals to reciprocate. Apparently the peace here was enough to create an opportunity.

Perching on the very edge of the shelf, he channels a touch of chakra into his feet to make himself stick and leans out to catch a glimpse of what they're working on. The Tobirama who left him this body knew a little about every branch of magic, learned in the hopes that _something_ would work for him, and while it didn’t Tobirama can draw on the knowledge well enough. Runics are a half step sideways and back from seals, and he has to frown a little at the complex chain of characters that’s needed for something as simple as a summoning. Inefficient, he thinks, but it sparks an idea. With a sound of interest, he swings himself over the edge of the shelf and drops down, landing behind his former students without a sound.

“Children,” he says blandly.

Kagami, Danzō, and Hiruzen jump and yelp, almost falling out of their chairs. Koharu twitches hard, flinching back like she’s about to throw herself into the shadows of the shelves, and then jerks around as she comes to her feet.

“Tobirama!” she says, takes a step forward, and then pauses, flicking a nearly guilty glance at the open books.

More people his bitterness and jealousy hurt, Tobirama thinks, and he understands this world’s version of himself, understands his anger, but—

What if there hadn’t been another occupant ready to slip into his place? What if the last impressions the people had of him here were the last they _ever_ had?  It’s difficult for Tobirama to consider, because he’s always tried to live his life in such a way as to leave behind few regrets. This world’s Tobirama never learned to do that, and Tobirama can't help but think him lesser for it.

“Koharu,” he says mildly, raising a brow at her and letting a fraction of his amusement show. “I see I don’t need to remind _you_ to lower your voice in the library.”

Koharu smiles, sly and happy, and takes a step forward, holding out her hands. Tobirama doesn’t hesitate to take them, pulling her close, and she leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek, the bells on her kanzashi chiming lightly. “I'm glad you're okay, sensei,” she says warmly, pulling back a step. “When we heard you fell, we almost turned around, but we didn’t think you’d approve of us abandoning our quest just to sit by your hospital bed.”

“I most certainly wouldn’t have,” Tobirama tells her, and _quest_ is enough like _mission_ that he can say that with complete sincerity. “You finished it successfully?”

“Of course we did!” Hiruzen, apparently recovered, all but bounces up to them, pointedly nudging Koharu out of the way to throw his arms around Tobirama’s waist. The hug knocks Tobirama back on his heels, but a moment later there's a loud protest and another body hits him in the back, hugging him even more tightly.

“You really, _really_ need to be more careful,” Kagami says fervently into his robes. “ _Gods_ , sensei, I thought we were going to come back and find you dead.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, but fondly, and scuffs a hand through Hiruzen's hair. “It was just a fall,” he says, not quite truth but as much as he’s willing to say, and offers Danzō, hovering several steps away, a half-smile. The other Tobirama’s memories show nothing of Hiruzen and Danzō together, so he offers, “Congratulations, Danzō, Saru.”

Danzō flushes a little, looking away, and the tips of his ears go red. Hiruzen, arms still locked around his chest, makes a low, mortified sound, and Koharu laughs.

“Torifu owes me money,” she says with satisfaction. “He was _sure_ you wouldn’t notice, sensei.”

Tobirama gives her a narrow look. “Because I can't see the obvious?” he asks dryly.

Peeling himself off of Tobirama’s back, Kagami snickers. “No,” he says, ducking around to throw himself back into his chair. “Because he thinks that you haven’t noticed Madara's feelings either, and is convinced you just don’t think about stuff like that, whereas the rest of us just think you’re trying to let him down gently.”

Tobirama blinks. Blinks again. Thinks of Madara in his library the other night, loud and obnoxious and clearly concerned. Thinks of that moment of grief, right after he woke up here, and the way Madara was so careful with him. Tobirama had put it down to Izuna being alive, Madara's friendship with Hashirama making him care, but—

_What?_

“Madara,” he repeats, entirely bewildered by this idea. Madara only ever treated him with hostility in their world, thinly veiled hatred and poisoned words, a mockingly sweet _Tobirama-kun_ thrown at him like a kunai and aimed to draw blood. Tobirama, for his part, had never trusted that that Madara was anything but a threat, a snake in their midst that would turn on them in an instant.

This one, though. This one is different, and Tobirama has recognized that since the moment he realized Madara's armor bore Konoha's leaf instead of the Uchiha fan.

Hiruzen detangles himself from Tobirama’s robes, glancing up at his face. “Of course,” he says lightly, but his eyes are assessing. “He’s been in love with you for _years_. At least as long as I've been at the school.”

Koharu makes a quiet sound of agreement. “You never gave him the time of day, though,” she says.

Because this Tobirama wanted what Madara had so fiercely—Hashirama’s regard, powerful magics, an important position in the school. Because this Tobirama was bitter and angry at the world, and didn’t care to see anything else.

It’s all too familiar. All too painful, as well. Everything Tobirama knows from his world is at odds with how this Tobirama acted, even if they really are the same person underneath. They may as well not be, honestly.

“Sensei?” Danzō asks quietly, but his eyes are dark and there's something fierce in his expression. “Should we have a word with Madara about…all of this? We can get him to leave you alone.”

They're sweet, Tobirama thinks, and reaches out, touches Danzō’s shoulder and then Hiruzen's cheek, Kagami's hair and Koharu’s wrist. “I would much rather you focused on your work,” he says dryly, though he lets a touch of gratitude bleed into his voice, sees the surprise in their faces when it isn’t venom. He’s hurt too many people in this place; sometimes it feels like he’s going to spend the rest of his life making up for the other Tobirama’s words to his brothers, his students, his friends. “And I found something I believe you should try, as well.”

It’s a spur of the moment decision, to slip back into the role of teacher that he’s never held here, but Tobirama can't resist. Wants to give them something, after all that they’ve given the him from this place. Respect when he received it from few other people, kindness even when he pushed them away, laughter when he hadn’t thought to find any. And—they're his students. He cares for them, regardless of what world he’s in.

“Magic?” Kagami asks, sounding surprised. He trades glances with Hiruzen, then looks back at Tobirama. “Did you find something interesting?”

A touch of sensor’s sight tells Tobirama the library is empty beyond the five of them, and a moment of concentration and a subtle hand seal sends a current of air sweeping past the distant doors, blowing the heavy bar down to lock them in place. The crash makes his students startle, but Tobirama ignores it, raising a hand. He traces his fingers through the air, adding just a touch of chakra, and watches the seals of a simple barrier form out of nothingness.

There's absolute, utter silence from the four teenagers.

“Sensei?” Hiruzen finally manages, awed and something close to wondering.

Kagami doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, the tip of one finger just barely touching a seal. It passes right through, but he makes a sound of surprise, jerking his hand back. “That’s—that’s _magic_ ,” he says, bewildered, and turns to look at Tobirama with wide eyes. “But it’s _not_. I've never felt anything like that before. And…”

“I thought you couldn’t do magic,” Koharu says, as blunt as she’s ever been, and her eyes are on the seals as well, intent and thoughtful. “These aren’t runics, though. They don’t feel even slightly similar.”

“Seals,” Tobirama tells her, and lets a spark of chakra leap from his hands into the array. It activates in a surge of blue light, spreading out around them and solidifying into a shimmering wall. “I would be interested to see if you can use this technique.”

Danzō’s eyes are hungry as he stares up at the barrier, that thirst for knowledge that Tobirama recognized in him so early on showing itself clearly. “Can we?” he asks, almost breathless. He reaches out, touches the barrier and jerks his hand back with a hiss when it sparks. “You’d teach us?”

“Of course,” Tobirama says, as close to gentle as he ever gets, and lets the barrier fade away. Looks into four sets of bright, hopeful eyes, and smiles. “You would be my first choices regardless.”

Koharu smiles, pleased, and Hiruzen laughs, dragging Danzō into a half-hug. Kagami grins up at Tobirama, and says with clear sincerity, “Thank you, sensei. And—congratulations.”

Tobirama thinks of the other him, so bitter about his lack of magic but with so much chakra hidden away inside of himself. Thinks of the irony of being so strong and never realizing it until the moment of his death. Thinks what a triumph this would be, for the departed Tobirama, and smiles back, wry and a little sad.

“Thank you, Kagami,” he says, quiet but sincere, and Kagami grins back at him as if he knows entirely what he means.

(He thinks of Madara in the moment after that lightning construct’s attack, burning with power but none of the madness that Tobirama remembers. The way Madara pressed him up against the shelf, eyes wild with something like fear, the desperate sound he made when Tobirama jumped from the top of the shelf and Madara thought he was falling.

Weighs the softness that touched the slant of Madara's mouth when Tobirama said his name against the memory of a harsh, cold man who had only hatred to spare, and…wonders. Just a little. Just enough.)

 

 

“Tobirama!” Kawarama says, bright and happy and warm, and grabs Tobirama by the hand, pulling him towards the main table in the hall. There are two empty seats between Uchiha Hikaku and Madara, who’s picking moodily at his food, and Tobirama knows with the halfway unfamiliar haze of someone else’s memory that he would usually never take that seat, that he would fill his plate and retreat to the far end of the long table to eat alone.

This time, though, he offers Hikaku a nod and doesn’t leave, even when Kawarama flings himself down next to Hikaku with a grin. Instead, he takes the empty seat between his younger brother and Madara, and picks up the bowl of rice that’s waiting.

Kawarama, always clever about people in a way no one else in their family can match, gives him a long look but just smiles, then promptly links hands with Hikaku. Hikaku chokes on his water, almost panicked as he shoots an alarmed glance at Tobirama, but Tobirama just raises a brow at him and picks up his chopsticks.

Madara is staring at him too, but Tobirama ignores that.

“I heard we got a new shipment of books in from Water Country,” Kawarama says cheerfully, and the toe of his sandal nudges Tobirama’s ankle in a hidden gesture of thanks. “How long do you think it will take you to get them catalogued? Some of them are supposed to be about battle magic and—”

“You,” Tobirama says dryly, even as he nudges back, “hardly need _more_ ways to make things explode.”

Across the table, Itama starts giggling, and has to duck his head to hide it.

Kawarama makes a face at Itama, then turns a pout on Tobirama without hesitation. “But _Tobirama_ ,” he says, almost a whine except for the way his eye are sparkling, the curve of a grin he’s trying very hard to suppress. “Some of them are _fire_ spells!”

Tobirama raises an unimpressed brow and goes back to his meal. “Hikaku likely knows them already,” he points out.

“He won't teach me either,” Kawarama complains. “No matter _what_ I offer to do for him in return.”

This time, Hikaku chokes so hard on a bite of noodles that he starts hacking, and he shoots a wholly panicked look from Tobirama to Hashirama to Itama, who has most definitely _stopped_ giggling now. “Kawa!” he hisses hoarsely.

Madara mutters something and presses a hand over his eyes like he’s mourning the fate of his clan.

With a snort, Tobirama just shakes his head. “At least they aren’t the second coming of Tōka and Izuna,” he tells Madara dryly, and it says quite a lot that Tōka, most definitely within hearing distance across the table and only a few seats down, doesn’t even look away from Izuna long enough to make a rude gesture at him.

There's a long, long pause, like Madara is searching for a trap in the words, before he answers cautiously, “I thought you were against any Uchiha consorting with a Senju.”

“And I thought the same of you,” Tobirama retorts, though there's no acid in the words.

Another moment of silence, and Madara looks at Izuna, cheerfully regaling Tōka with a story about his students. At Hikaku, bright red and hissing at a laughing Kawarama. At Kagami, deep in discussion with Mito and two of the younger Senju girls. Then dark eyes slide back to Tobirama, lingering on his face for a long minute before Madara snorts, and with a trace of self-directed humor says, “I think I've resigned myself to certain factors at this point.”

 _He’s been in love with you for **years**_ , Tobirama hears, an echo of this morning, and looks down at his food without quite seeing it. Instead, the only thing in his mind is Madara's face in the hallway right after Tobirama woke up, concern and helplessness and a shadow of grief that Tobirama remembers the feeling of all too well.

He never allowed himself to love like that, as a Kage. Had wanted to, had been so lonely when he stood at the window of his office and looked out over the village, but there was no one close to him in that way. A handful of partners, here and there, but no one who cared for him the way he wished to care for someone else. Tobirama has always been too harsh, too cold, too intimidating, and he’s well aware of it.

Maybe it’s selfish, and awful, but hearing that the Tobirama of this world had what Tobirama himself has always wanted, but squandered it in favor of resentment and anger? It very nearly makes him angry.

Taking a breath, he looks down at his plate again, considering. Weighing his reactions to this Madara, so different from the madman he knew who was so very twisted by grief and loss. Like this, he can see why Hashirama has always loved him so much. Can see, maybe, how he himself could do the same.

“Next time you want to spend all night lurking outside the library,” he says, and can't bring himself to even look at Madara, “just come in. You’ve been scaring everyone away.”

“The only thing scaring visitors away is your attitude,” Madara retorts waspishly, but he’s staring at Tobirama, gaze steady and faintly wary. In his lap, Tobirama can see his fingers curl into a fist, like he wants to reach out but won't allow himself.

It’s as much of a peace offering as Tobirama can leave right now. One step forward, along a path he isn’t sure will hold, but—

This world is different. This world has _peace_ , and a Madara who cares so deeply and fiercely it’s almost unnerving.

Tobirama wants to see where else the differences might lie.

“Madara, are you okay?” Izuna asks, at just the right pitch for everyone at the table to hear. Tobirama recognizes that younger-sibling-specific tone, and looks up with a glare already forming. “You look like you just got hit over the head!”

Madara squawks, and an instant later a bottle of shoyu goes flying across the table to skim the top of Izuna's head as he yelps and ducks. “Shut _up_!” Madara snarls, picks up his knife—

Tobirama snags it out of midair as it crosses in front of him and deposits it in front of Madara with a roll of his eyes. “Really, Uchiha,” he reproves. “This isn’t a _bar_.”

Wide-eyed, Madara looks from the knife to Tobirama to Izuna and then back to Tobirama. “That—” he starts, then breaks off to demand, “How did you _do that_?”

Tobirama gives him an unimpressed stare, just barely able to keep his smirk tucked away. “Did I impress you, Madara?” he asks, amused at the way Madara keeps casting glances at his fingers. Deliberately, he reaches out to pick up a decanter of water, letting his fingers caress the long neck for a brief instant before he lifts it and fills Madara's glass. Then, casually, he takes it for himself and swallows a long drink, lips lingering on the rim.

Madara's face is a study of exquisite suffering and confused, rising rage, and Tobirama _glories_ in it.

This, he thinks with satisfaction, will be _quite_ amusing.


End file.
